Waiting Up
by usernamesarecool
Summary: Smosh: Ian/Anthony. Ian comes home drunk one night, and Anthony isn't quite sure what to do with him.


It was nearly three in the morning, and Anthony couldn't sleep. He felt stupid admitting it, but it was strange, knowing that Ian wasn't sleeping in the next room over. He rolled over onto his side, staring absently at the wall. He wondered what Ian was doing. He probably didn't want to know. Ian was out with… God, he couldn't even remember her name. That girl Ian was dating, anyway. They'd only been seeing each other for a little over a month, and already Ian was spending nearly every other night at her house. Anthony wondered what would happen if one day Ian never came home. What if he decided to move in with her? What would happen to Smosh? What would happen to their friendship?

He rolled back onto his stomach, frustrated with himself. He was twenty-three years old, for fuck's sake; he should be able to go to sleep without his best friend there. And yet he felt incredibly lonely knowing he was alone in the house. They'd been sharing the house for years; Anthony could barely remember life before Ian.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a loud knock on the front door. Was Ian home? Did he forget his keys? Maybe he'd had a fight with… with whatshername. He was disgusted by his excitement at the idea.

He slid out of bed and turned the lights on, pulling on a pair of jeans over his boxers. The knocking got louder. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered under his breath. He hurried to the front door, flicking on lights as he went. When he finally wrenched the door open, he was greeted by the sight of Ian half-slumped over, leaning against a pretty blonde girl. Not whatshername, Anthony was sure; he'd met her once, and this girl definitely looked nothing like her.

"Um," Anthony said.

"I found your drunk friend here crying on the curb downtown," the girl said. "He needed some help to find his way home." She paused, looking around. "This is the right house, right?"

"Yeah, he's mine," Anthony said, rolling his eyes.

"Hi Anthony," Ian said feebly, swaying on his feet.

"So you guys are…?" the girl trailed off.

"No, we're roommates," Anthony replied. "Thanks for your help." He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill for the girl. "Here, take this."

"Thanks," she replied. "Drunk roommate delivery service, that's me." She grinned at Anthony and pushed Ian gently towards him, then turned and walked back to her car.

Anthony put his arm around Ian's shoulders, holding him steady as he helped him inside. His breath reeked of alcohol.

"God, Ian, what were you drinking?" Anthony asked, more concerned than annoyed.

"Whiskey… I think…" Ian mumbled.

"Well, come on," Anthony said gently. "Let's get you cleaned up and put you to bed."

Ian nodded weakly.

In the bathroom, Anthony filled a glass with water and put toothpaste on Ian's toothbrush.

"Here," he said, handing the toothbrush to Ian. Ian obediently brushed his teeth, scrubbing the alcohol smell away. When he was done, Anthony held out the water. Ian swallowed it in small sips.

"Feel better now?" Anthony asked. Ian nodded. Anthony looked him up and down. His hair was disheveled, there were tearstains on his face, and both knees of his jeans were torn.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Anthony asked.

"She broke up with me," Ian said. The despair in his voice made Anthony feel ashamed of his earlier thoughts.

"Why'd she do that?" he asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.

"She… she told me she wants a guy with… with a real job," Ian said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "She thinks I'm…" His breath hitched, and he let out a small sob. "She thinks I'm immature." He was crying again. Not a lot, but the few tears flowing down his cheeks still tugged at Anthony's heartstrings. He pulled Ian into a hug, and Ian buried his face in Anthony's neck. His skin was hot and feverish. Anthony stroked his hair, murmuring "it'll be alright" and "don't worry" and anything else he could think of. For a brief moment he was sure he felt Ian's lips brush against his neck, sending odd shivers up and down his spine, but then they were gone and he convinced himself he'd imagined it.

Finally, Ian's tears subsided. "Come on," Anthony said softly. "I'll help you to your room." He pulled away from Ian, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. They made their way slowly down the hall, Anthony stopping to catch Ian every time he stumbled. After what seemed like minutes, Anthony pushed open the door to Ian's room. Ian was barely conscious, holding onto Anthony for dear life.

"Come on, almost there," Anthony urged.

"…pass out…" Ian mumbled.

"Fuck," Anthony muttered, wrapping his arms around Ian just as Ian's legs gave out. Anthony stumbled under the weight. "Fuck," he said again, half-carrying and half-dragging him to the bed. He laid him down as gently as possible, pulled the sheets over him, and turned out the lights. As he turned to leave, Ian's voice cried out, "Wait!" Anthony looked back at him, his heart aching at the panic in Ian's voice.

"I thought you were passed out," he said.

"No… maybe…" Ian tried to sit up, fell back against the pillows, and let out a small whimper. "My head," he whined.

"You gonna be alright?" Anthony asked.

"Stay," Ian said softly.

Anthony hesitated. "What?"

"Stay," Ian murmured. "Please."

"Alright, fine. Just let me put a shirt on first, I'm not sleeping in your bed half-naked."

"Naked," Ian whispered, and giggled.

"Oh my god, dude, you're not allowed to have whiskey anymore," Anthony said, grabbing one of Ian's shirts off the floor and pulling it on. It smelled nice, he noticed. That Ian smell. He slid into the bed next to Ian, fully dressed. He noticed Ian was still wearing his sneakers and his hoodie.

"Hold on," he said as Ian tried to snuggle up against him. "You're still wearing your outdoor stuff." He pulled the blanket back and tugged Ian's shoes off, tossing them to the floor. He began wrestling with the zipper of Ian's hoodie, which refused to open.

"You're undressing me," Ian giggled.

"No, I'm not," Anthony said, exasperated. "I'm trying to get you into bed so you can go the fuck to sleep and sober the fuck up." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth; Ian's face fell and he began to tear up again.

"Ian, I'm sorry, man, it's just been a long night," he said, but it was too late. Ian was crying again, his face contorted from the tears. He let out a quiet, gasping sob.

"I'm sorry," Anthony said desperately. He finally managed to get Ian's hoodie off and dropped it onto the floor, then pulled him close. Ian sobbed silently into his chest. After several minutes, his tears subsided. Anthony held him tight, not wanting to let go until he was sure he was okay.

"You know, I told her no," Ian mumbled, breaking the silence.

Anthony pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. "No? No to what?"

"About getting a real job," Ian murmured. "I told her I love what I do too much to give it up. And I told her it wouldn't feel right to not be working with you."

Anthony's heart rose into his throat. "Ian," he said softly.

"Anthony," Ian whispered. He looked indecisive for a moment, and then he moved forward ever so slightly.

Before Anthony knew what was happening, Ian was kissing him. Thoughts raced through his head at lightning speed_. Ian's kissing me. I want Ian to kiss me. I want to kiss Ian. I've always wanted to kiss Ian._

This realization hit him so hard that for half a second he was motionless. Then he kissed back, so enthusiastically that Ian moaned. Ian tangled his hands in Anthony's messy hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. _This is a mistake_, Anthony thought,_ this is a mistake, he's drunk and things will be weird tomorrow and he won't ever want to be your friend again_ but he couldn't stop himself from sliding his hands under Ian's shirt, feeling the warm skin, greedily running his fingers over Ian's torso and his chest.

"Anthony," Ian murmured between kisses. "I… I…" he paused, kissed him again. "I…"

"Yeah?" Anthony urged.

"I… uh…" Ian's voice trailed off. His hands slipped from Anthony's hair and he fell back against the pillow, passed out at last.

Anthony watched him sleep, his heart pounding as his exhilaration turned to nervousness. What if Ian woke up the next morning, decided that kissing him was a mistake? Or even worse, what if he didn't remember it at all? Anthony wasn't sure he could act normal with that secret hanging over his head. And he couldn't just forget what had happened. He stared at Ian. Even passed out and disheveled, Anthony was attracted to him. How was he supposed to hide that? Oh God.

He turned over onto his side, away from Ian. By the time he fell into an uneasy sleep, the sun was beginning to rise.

-x-

When Anthony awoke the next morning it was nearly noon. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. Then the memories of last night came crashing down on him. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned.

Ian's side of the bed was empty. Anthony could hear the shower running in the bathroom. He briefly debated fleeing from the house while Ian was in there, but he'd have to face it eventually. Instead he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled sleepily to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Ian wandered into the room just as Anthony was pouring his coffee. He was fully clothed, thankfully; Ian was never one to walk around in a towel after showering. His hair was wet and messy, though, and Anthony found it almost painfully cute. _I can't live with this_, he thought desperately.

"Coffee?" he said tentatively, offering a mug to Ian.

"Yes please," Ian groaned. He sat heavily on the couch, hugging his coffee to his chest. Anthony sat down beside him, his heart fluttering nervously.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Kind of shitty," Ian said, smiling weakly and setting his coffee down on the floor. He pulled his legs up onto the couch, kneeling to face Anthony. "I'm sorry about last night, man. I don't remember much." He paused. "Alright, I don't remember anything. Did you have to come get me at the bar?"

"Nah, some girl drove you home. She found you on a curb somewhere." Anthony's stomach twisted into a knot. Now it was up to him whether Ian found out or not.

"Oh god," Ian said, shaking his head. Then he grinned. "I noticed you were in my bed this morning. I didn't _try_ anything, did I?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Anthony made a split-second decision to tell the truth. "Yeah, you did," he said.

Ian's smile disappeared, replaced by a look of dismay. "I… oh God," he moaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, dude."

"Don't be," Anthony said softly. Ian's lack of surprise or even confusion was all the reassurance he needed. He pulled Ian's hands away from his face, leaned in, and kissed him.

Ian didn't respond, his lips frozen in place. After a few seconds, Anthony pulled away, his heat pounding so hard that he was sure Ian could hear it. Had he misjudged his reaction?

"Was… was that… okay?" he asked quietly.

"I… I…" Ian stuttered. "It was… uh…" He shook his head, refocused his eyes, and suddenly seemed to snap out of a trance. "Fuck yes!" he cried, so loud that Anthony jumped, startled. Before he could say anything, Ian grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him, hard.

Relief flooded through Anthony's body as he eagerly returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, pulling him down on top of him. Ian's tongue brushed against his own, teasing him until he couldn't help but moan.

"Fuck," Ian whispered, his eyes dark with lust. He straddled Anthony's thighs and fumbled with his belt, tugging it open.

"Moving a little fast, aren't we?" Anthony said, but he couldn't help arching up into Ian's touch.

"Fuck that," Ian panted. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?" He unbuttoned Anthony's jeans, slid the zipper down.

"Oh God, Ian, can we… just… please…" Anthony gestured vaguely in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Good idea," Ian said breathlessly, biting his lip. "Your bed. Hurry!"

Anthony didn't need to be told twice.

-x-

"Oh God," Anthony panted, collapsing back against his pillow. Ian laughed, trying to catch his breath.

"That," he said, "was worth the wait."

"You're all sweaty," Anthony pointed out, grinning. "So much for that shower you took earlier."

"I guess we'll just have to take another one," Ian teased. "But not right now." He kissed Anthony softly and snuggled down beside him, his head on Anthony's chest. Anthony stroked his hair, closing his eyes contently. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Suddenly, a troublesome thought entered his mind. "What about… you know, your breakup?" he asked tentatively. "I mean, this isn't just... you know, a rebound, is it?"

"No!" Ian said fiercely, propping himself up on his elbow. "God, no! When she broke up with me last night, I was upset, but it wasn't really the breakup. I was just worried that I'd be alone forever because I couldn't get over my stupid crush on you." He smiled. "Not so stupid anymore, I guess," he said, gesturing to their naked bodies beneath the sheets.

"So you didn't even like her?"

"I did, sort of. She was sweet and pretty and funny and all that, but I would've dumped her myself if I knew I had a shot with you. I've liked you since high school, for fuck's sake."

Anthony couldn't help but grin. He kissed Ian deeply, enjoying the feeling of his lips.

"So how long has it been?" Ian asked when they pulled away.

"How long has what been?"

"You know… since you started loving me," Ian said, smirking.

Anthony rolled his eyes playfully. "Please," he scoffed. "You know I only want you for your body."

Ian laughed, but his eyes remained serious.

Anthony thought about it for a few seconds. "Three years? Maybe four?" He paused. "I can't remember..." The realization of what he was saying hit him. He took a shaky breath. "Ian," he said. "I love you."

He felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his chest. He'd finally said it, that thing he'd been hiding from everyone – even from himself – for as long as he could remember. "I love you," he repeated, laughing giddily from sheer wonder.

Ian's face broke into a smile. Not a silly grin or a mischievous smirk, but a beautiful, genuine smile. "I love you too," he said. Anthony kissed him again, running his fingers through his still-wet hair. _I'm in love with my best friend_, he thought blissfully. _What could possibly make this moment better?_

Ian answered his unspoken question. "So," he said, grinning, "how about that shower?"


End file.
